Download our Android App

Poetry

 





Real-time poetry in motion came to a Yorkshire village last night at the launch of the UK’s first poetry village.

Two young pupils from Marsden Junior School backed by a team of enthusiastic poets and musicians weaved a path through the village shops, pubs and cafes displaying poetry posters.

Twenty-five poems, selected by Marsden The Poetry Village Group from nearly 300 entries, were given pride of place on national Poetry Day.

The village is home to two of the nation’s most distinguished poets Samuel Laycock and Simon Armitage.

Marsden Junior School pupils Flora Smart and Jasmine Mason, both aged nine, received rapturous applause for their poems displayed in the Magic Box on Peel Street.

Flora’s proud father, Ian, said:”She’s just started writing poetry and she’s thrilled to have actually had a chance to read her own work before such a discerning audience.”

David Coldwell, chair of the poetry village steering group, said: “ The launch was a great success. It was really gratifying seeing the number of excellent entries for the event.

“Poetry give great freedom of expression and the poems, which had a musical theme, really set the scene for the Marsden Jazz Festival next month.”He led the audience on a tour of the village with Julian Jordon, director of the internationally acclaimed website, Write Out Loud.Mr Jordon said:” The poems really echoed the musical theme and laid the foundation for our poetry village mantle.”~

Article from the Huddersfield Examiner 29/09/17

Our aim at MJS is to encourage children to get involved with writing poetry. We are very lucky to have links with WriteOutLoud, which is based in Marsden. There are regular events held in Marsden Library.

https://www.writeoutloud.net/public/blogentry.php?blogentryid=64292

 The Junior Leadership Team would like every child in school to read a poem out loud in assembly before they leave school. We would like to have poems displayed in our library and of course, shared on this page.

At the end of each term, an award will be given to the child who writes the most creative poem. This will be known as the Coldwell Award (after a local poet). We hope to share numerous poems on this page.

Please look out for any upcoming events held in Marsden.

 

Poem of the month:

 What Monster?

Just a bit of fun, these poems are used in my work as part of a project using monsters as a way of inspiring young people to share an enthusiasm for writing. Can you identify the six mystery monsters?

 

More than just the sum of his parts

this monster stole another's heart

and his hands and feet as well

not much is his as you can tell

his head is screwed on firmly

by the bolts in his neck stuck

he gets overexcited when

by lightning he is stuck.

 

When the old king passed away

in a gold coffin he was put

some say his name was Rameses

others it was Tut

his ancient skin is paper thin

in bandages he's wrapped

inside a pyramid of stone

for centuries he was trapped.

 

If tonight there's a full moon

there's good reason to be scared

there'll be a monster coming soon

with pointy teeth and shaggy hair

a silver bullet's what you'll need

to stop him in his tracks

or else on you he'll want to feed

he'd like you for a snack.

 

This monster likes to live in slime

he lurks in murky lakes

he lies in wait, biding his time

before his chance he takes

to grab a lonely swimmer

who strays too far from shore

with hands that seem like flippers

he drags them down below.

 

Many fathoms down

beneath the ocean deep

a scaly behemoth

has woken from its sleep

it swims up to the surface

an aquatic dinosaur

and sinks a passing liner with

its terrifying roar.

 

A bat flies through a window

of the crypt just as dawn breaks

then in a cloud of crimson smoke

a transformation undertakes

instead of wings and claws and fur

there's pointed teeth and slicked back hair

in a coffin with a regal crest

he settles down to take his rest.

 

Previous Poems

Stay Put

I have a fear of fire.

I have a fear of height.

I have a fear of being trapped alone

On my life's very last night.

 

I have a fear of towers.

I fear the way they sway.

The way the wind's wicked whispers

whistle past with far too much to say.

 

I fear some in high places.

I fear they do not care.

I fear they lack compassion

I can smell it in the air.

 

I fear some have been greedy

I fear corners have been cut.

I fear eyes that should be open now

By weight of coin have been shut.

 

I fear I'd have known the policy;

I fear it 'cos true.

I fear my undoing would have been

to do what I'd been told to do.

 

I fear that I'd still be there 

Beneath the charcoal blackened soot.

Yes, I fear that I'd still be there now

because I would've stayed put. 

Kevin, the Chameleon Astronaut

As he sat in his space ship

young Kevin knew that soon

he’d be the first chameleon

to walk upon the moon.

 

He clambered down the ladder

in his special reptile suit,

his high tech lizard helmet

and his little welly boots.

 

He wandered round the surface

picked up a rock or two

then Kevin came to realise

there wasn’t much to do.

 

See, chameleons eat insects.

They zap ‘em with their tongue.

This didn’t seem the kind of place

Chameleons belong.

 

There were no beetles anywhere

or even centipedes.

All he could see was dust and rock,

nothing that Kevins need. 

 

He thought he’d change his colour

to a lovely shade of green,

forgetting that inside the suit

his skin could not be seen.

 

His boggle eyes went searching

for somewhere he could play

but all there was for miles and miles

was grey, and grey, and grey.

 

It had all seemed so exciting

to be the first in space.

Who would have thought the moon would be

a very boring place.

Stay Put

I have a fear of fire.

I have a fear of height.

I have a fear of being trapped alone

On my life's very last night.

 

I have a fear of towers.

I fear the way they sway.

The way the wind's wicked whispers

whistle past with far too much to say.

 

I fear some in high places.

I fear they do not care.

I fear they lack compassion

I can smell it in the air.

 

I fear some have been greedy

I fear corners have been cut.

I fear eyes that should be open now

By weight of coin have been shut.

 

I fear I'd have known the policy;

I fear it 'cos true.

I fear my undoing would have been

to do what I'd been told to do.

 

I fear that I'd still be there 

Beneath the charcoal blackened soot.

Yes, I fear that I'd still be there now

because I would've stayed put. 

 

 

The Minister for Exams

When I was a child I sat an exam.

This test was so simple

There was no way i could fail.

Q1. Describe the taste of the Moon.

It tastes like Creation I wrote,

it has the flavour of starlight.

 

Q2. What colour is Love?

Love is the colour of the water a man

lost in the desert finds, I wrote.

 

Q3. Why do snowflakes melt?

I wrote, they melt because they fall on to the warm tongue of God.

There were other questions.

They were as simple.

I described the grief of Adam

when he was expelled from Eden.

I wrote down the exact weight of

an elephant's dream 

Yet today, many years later,

For my living I sweep the streets

or clean out the toilets of the fat

hotels.

Why? Because constantly I failed

my exams.

Why? Well, let me set a test.

 

Q1. How large is a child's

imagination?

 

Q2. How shallow is the soul of the

Minister for exams?

 

Brian Patten

 

Miss Gladstone’s eyes are more severe 

Than other teachers teaching here. 

They swivel round then settle firm 

on pupils who begin to squirm. 

 

Like searchlights on a prison tower 

Miss Gladstone’s eyes don’t look, they glower. 

Not searchlights, no, more laser beams 

that burn enough to make you scream. 

 

Heads down, the class daren’t catch her eye 

for fear that if they do they’ll fry. 

But what they do not realise: 

the REAL Miss Gladstone, behind those eyes 

 

She’d love to be the pupils’ friend 

but fearful of where it might end 

if she relaxed, herself to be. 

It might bring back the past, you see. 

 

She was kind and happy, long ago 

until fate dealt a cruel blow. 

Her lover left her all alone, 

so she’s no children of her own. 

 

Her fear’s that tears might moist her eye 

and if she then began to cry 

she’d never stop for days or weeks. 

Her future then would seem quite bleak. 

 

Her sobs might trickle then cascade 

with no-one to come to her aid, 

Turn stream to river, then sea of tears, 

and burst the dam she’s held for years 

 

So spare a thought for Miss Gladstone 

back in her flat there all alone. 

Next time she stares at you awhile. 

Don’t look away, just give a smile. 

Julian Jordon, 2006

We visited a rainbow

at school the other day.

Every colour said hello

except for gloomy grey.

 

We visited a rainbow,

and used its arch to slide,

then when it started raining,

we used the arch to hide.

 

We visited a rainbow,

but never saw its gold.

Our teacher said it’s locked away,

but we think it’s been sold.

 

We visited a rainbow,

and now we’re best of friends,

so brought it back to live with me

until the school year ends.

 George Stanton

In This Little School

In this little school
Life goes so sweetly,
Day on azure day
Is lost completely.
No one thinks too much,
Or worries greatly.
In a pleasant shade
We dream sedately.
There's no struggle here
Or conflict showing;
Only the sweet pain
Of young limbs growing.

by Lesbia Hartford.

 

Awards